To Be Brave
by CatJetRat
Summary: Epilogue nonexistent. The wizarding world has been torn apart by the war, and it's up to Harry to help piece it back together, but he still has to attend his seventh year! Fortunately, he has the help of his friends, and a certain former Death Eater. HPDM


A/N: I suppose that this, like my story "New Beauty", will eventually grow cliche, but hopefully not yet, so here goes

**A/N:** I suppose that this, like my story "New Beauty", will eventually grow cliché, but hopefully not yet, so here goes. I WILL update "Love Not Forgotten", but I'm sort of gasping for inspiration with that story right now, so it might be a while before I update LNF. However, now I feel that I should write this. I suppose it's rather obvious why. Because the ending for the last book was crappy, Draco's role was underplayed, and, of course, Rowling was either too cowardly or too boring to pair Harry with someone other than Ginny. Ginny. Merlin, how I hate her. What a bitch. Clears throat. Sorry, not in the greatest mood at the moment. Well. Anyway. Adios!

-CatJetRat

**Summary:** Set after the last chapter in Deathly Hallows. Epilogue does not exist. Set RIGHT after the last chapter. Harry/Draco, as usual. It might be a long time coming, though. Expect this to be a tad heartbreaking, though. Eventual major Ginny bashing. Perhaps. As for Hermione, you get to choose who she's paired with. Either Pansy or Snape, but if you have a better idea I'm open to it. If you all choose Snape, I'll find some way to bring him back to life.

**Chapter 1**

**One End, One Beginning**

**Normal POV**

It was with relief that Harry trudged up the marble staircase towards Gryffindor tower. Hermione and Ron had left him to go back down to the Great Hall. Most people were leaving to go home, from what Harry understood. Harry told Ron and Hermione to give Ginny his love, but he couldn't see her at the moment. All he could do right then was sleep. He could sleep for a week, if he cared to.

When he reached the Fat Lady's portrait, she was staring at him with wide eyes. "You—you—" she gasped admiringly.

"Not now," he said, suppressing a smile. "I just need to sleep."

She nodded rapidly and swung open for him, still watching him with wide eyes. Harry climbed through the portrait hole. The common room was empty, and, as Harry glanced around it, his hand gave an involuntary spasm. Two years ago, Fred and George Weasley had stood right over there in that corner, testing their sweets on unsuspecting first years. Now Fred was dead downstairs, and George was missing an ear. Harry glanced back towards the portrait hole, wondering if he shouldn't go down and see how George was. But no, George had his family with him. Harry could see him tomorrow. Harry proceeded up to the boys' dormitory, and entered the one marked "Seventh Years".

He _was_ a seventh year, wasn't he? Harry realized that he would probably need to attend his seventh year at Hogwarts, indeed, that most kids would need to retake the year, as unproductive as it had probably been. Harry sank into the bed that was still his, dusty though it may be. Harry murmured a cleaning spell, and glanced around the empty room, feeling uncomfortable. Tired or no, there was something odd about sleeping in an empty dormitory.

"Kreacher!" Harry shouted, and, with a crack, Kreacher appeared, bowing low.

"What can Kreacher do for his master, defeater of the evil Dark Lord?" Kreacher asked subserviently.

"May I have some butterbeer and a plate of sandwiches?" Harry requested.

"What kind would Master like?" Kreacher said, chancing a glance upwards.

"Ham and cheese," Harry replied. Kreacher bowed low, and Disapparated with a crack.

Harry sank back into the pillows, staring at the red hangings above him. He closed his eyes, and relaxed.

CRACK!

Harry sat straight up. Kreacher had appeared with the sandwiches. Harry rubbed his eyes and squinted at his watch. He had unknowingly fallen asleep for half an hour. Mumbling his thanks to Kreacher, Harry took the sandwiches and gobbled them down rapidly. He drained the butterbeer and took just enough time to remove his shoes and glasses before falling asleep again.

Screaming. Crying. Moaning with new grief. It was to these sounds that Harry awoke. He sat up and peered into the surrounding darkness. People were sleeping in the beds around him and crying out in their pain. Hands shaking, Harry put his glasses on and slipped into his shoes, before pulling the invisibility cloak over him. He glanced at his watch again. He had only been asleep for a few hours, yet he felt oddly refreshed. It was now almost five in the morning.

He walked out of his dormitory quietly, the Fat Lady snoring behind him. Harry paused when he reached the top of the staircase, uncertain of where he should go. But as he continued moving, he realized that he'd known all along.

A few minutes later, he was entering the Great Hall. People were spread all around in sleeping bags. Most were crying softly in their sleep. He spotted the Weasley family. Mrs. Weasley was sobbing uncontrollably. George wasn't even asleep, staring at the enchanted ceiling above, but he seemed oblivious to Harry's presence. Ron and Hermione were curled up together, but silent tears were rolling down both of their faces. Ginny was asleep close to the fire, and Harry felt a smile curving his face. He began to move towards her, but was distracted by a tall, pale figure standing far away from everyone else by one of the dying fires.

Harry knew who it was before he was halfway there, yet was strangely not bothered by that fact, and found himself standing next to Draco Malfoy a few moments later. Draco was not crying, merely standing there, back straight, face white and gray eyes wide. A bit of blood matted his blond hair, and there was a long gash on his left cheek. Harry murmured a healing spell Hermione had taught him, and the gash repaired itself. Malfoy touched his cheek.

"Thank you."

His voice, normally drawling and arrogant, or terrified and meek, was none of these things. It was slightly hoarse, but solemn. He appeared to be more mature and serious than Harry had ever seen him before.

"You defeated the Dark Lord." It was a statement, but Malfoy had an oddly confused look on his face nonetheless. "You defeated the Dark Lord using my wand."

Harry did not reply. There was simply nothing to say to this.

"Vincent Crabbe is dead." Again, a statement, but the same bemused look. "My Aunt Bellatrix is dead as well, and so are many others I've been taught to respect and like my entire life." He paused, and seemed at a loss for words. But then he recovered enough to speak again.

"And I was a coward."

Harry looked at him. Draco's face had hardened. "You sacrificed yourself for your friends, and I was a coward." He now sounded almost wondering. "I don't understand."

"What don't you understand?" Harry asked quietly. He did not contest the fact that Draco was a coward. It was true.

"I don't understand why I'm the coward and you aren't. I've been taught my entire life that I'm better than everyone else because I'm a pureblood, and because I'm rich. When I was younger my father told me that one day another like the Dark Lord would rise and I would need to be willing to sacrifice myself for his cause. When I was ten I was taught Dark Magic that wouldn't be taught to seventh years at Durmstrang. And yet I'm a coward."

Malfoy cleared his throat and hurried on, as if to say all he needed to quickly before Harry left, or perhaps before he came to his senses.

"But you didn't even know about the magical world until you were eleven. You learned your loyalties from friends. Your Muggle guardians were abusive, and yet you still supported Dumbledore! You barely knew any magic, and yet you defeated the Dark Lord when you were eleven. The Dark Lord was weakened, true, but most wizards and witches three times your age would have succumbed. And I am still the coward. I'm a coward, and now Crabbe is dead." Malfoy fell silent. Harry frowned.

He had long ago lost any desire he might have had to make Malfoy feel better about anything, but there was something in his statement which didn't quite ring true.

"You didn't kill Crabbe," Harry said, his voice coming out harsher than he had meant for it to. "Crabbe killed himself when he started the Fiendfyre. You didn't cause that."

Malfoy didn't say anything, merely continued to stare into the fire. But his silence bothered Harry. He grabbed Malfoy's arm and turned him until he was facing Harry, but he still refused to meet Harry's gaze.

"You were an idiot for believing your parents, and yes, you were a coward, but you are _not_ responsible for Crabbe's death!" Harry exclaimed.

"I'm still a coward," Malfoy mumbled.

"So don't be!" Harry felt frustrated beyond belief. "You're only seventeen! I was brave because I was forced to be. I was thrust into the right side and I needed to be brave! You did what you were taught to do, and got stuck too far into Voldemort's claws, doing his bidding only to save your life and the life of your family! But when you were told to kill someone, you couldn't do it!" Malfoy appeared to be surprised, yet even now wouldn't look at Harry. "Yes, I was there that night, held still under my invisibility cloak by a spell of Dumbledore's. I saw you lower your wand. And even when there were Death Eaters there, egging you on, you wouldn't kill Dumbledore. Though it could have meant your death you still couldn't kill another human being. That is your innate goodness."

Malfoy snorted, and Harry smiled in spite of himself. "You have the rest of your life to make up for your childish foolishness if you truly care to. Do you?"

Finally, finally, Malfoy looked up to meet Harry's eyes. Gray-silver met green with a ferocity that Harry hadn't known Malfoy to be capable of.

"Yes, Potter," he said. "I do."

Harry released his arm and stuck it inside of his robes, withdrawing the hawthorn wand from it. Draco's eyes widened when they landed upon it, and he appeared even more shocked when Harry held the wand out to him.

"I believe that this belongs to you."

Malfoy reached out and took the wand, his hand touching Harry's, and there was a strange warmth in that touch as Harry surrendered the wand's power to Draco. Malfoy pushed the wand into his pocket, a small trace of a smile adorning his face, and it was with a lurch that Harry realized he'd never seen Malfoy smile like that, without sneering or being sycophantic. He was just smiling, and Harry caught a glimpse of what it might have been like to be friends with Malfoy, had he accepted Malfoy's hand when it had been offered. All that might have happened. But then the smile faded, and that possibility vanished, though it had truly been gone a long time ago.

It was with a heavy heart that Harry turned away from Malfoy. He hadn't realized before the magnitude of damage that the war had inflicted. No one had gone unaffected. Everyone had been hurt. There was still a whole world to deal with. The war had ended, but the recovery had just begun.

"Potter."

Harry turned back towards Malfoy, a questioning frown on his face. Malfoy seemed to be struggling with something inside himself before he spoke, and it was as if Harry had just spoken his last thoughts aloud.

"Good luck."

**A/N:** So. Thoughts? This was one of the scenes that I thought was missing from Deathly Hallows. Harry's reconciliation with Draco. There will be more, of course, if you like. Now, as this is a romance story, this fanfiction will center mainly around Harry's relationship with Draco, and everything else will be mostly back round, though there will be a few plotlines that I want to include. This story will be a tad angsty, but fortunately, I have all the time in the world to finish it. Review! Adios!

-CatJetRat


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